


Commander Fox Week 2020

by sweetmugofcocoa



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Commander Fox Week 2020, Fluff, Gen, I don't like reading them that way either but I didn't know how else to write them at the time, y/n is used but I might edit them later so they don't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:48:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28800102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetmugofcocoa/pseuds/sweetmugofcocoa
Summary: This is a bit late, but I am transferring stuff from Tumblr to here.I did write these the week it happened (What was it, August?).A collection of Commander Fox appreciation fics, because he deserves more love.Fox's appearance is based off of @thatfunkyopossum on Tumblr.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	1. Prince in Painted Plastoid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 1- dancing
> 
> Fox goes to a gala celebrating the end of the war and the clone’s freedom.

Usually, for a big event like a gala, Fox would be suiting up in his armor. Actually, by this point he’d be already dressed and going over the security of the event with his men. But right now, he’s dressed in his new red, black, and white fatigues, his commander insignia pinned over the left side of his chest.

No clones are working the guard shift tonight. The war is over, the chancellor removed from office by lightsaber decapitation, and the law stating clones are just as sentient, and therefore are allowed the same rights as anyone else, was passed just six hours ago.

Fox still can’t believe what a weird week he’s had. He figures he should be worried about the safety of the gala. After all, not everyone agrees with how the events took place. The Senate guards and the droid cops will be on security detail, but Fox doesn’t exactly trust them to do their job. He has, after all, been doing their job for them for three years.

But Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard can’t find part of him to care. Right as he turns from the mirror, Y/n walks in, wearing a beautiful floor length red dress. He always thought she looked better in red than he did. He beams at the knowledge that she’ll be on his arm all night, and he can look anyone in the eye and say, ‘This beautiful woman loves me, and I love her, and you legally can’t take that away from us.’

Y/n walks over, adjusting the collar of his celebratory fatigues. She then takes his hat, “You don’t need this.”

“It completes the uniform,” Fox counters.

Y/n runs her fingers along the jagged line where his hair ends just above his ear. “You look better without it.”

Fox takes the hat back and puts it on his head again.

Y/n groans in mock frustration. She kisses his cheek, “Ready?”

“To show you off?” Fox asks. His smirk is light, “Been waiting a year for this.”

Y/n laughs, sliding her arm around his, “Then let’s go.”

* * *

The gala is bright with the chandelier reflecting on all the elaborate outfits. Fox’s brothers, both wearing red or other battalion colors, mingle among the senators and Jedi. The medals on their fatigues glint in the light. Fox has quite a few of his own, being one of the most decorated clones in the GAR. Fox is also delighted to see he’s not the only one of his brothers escorting a significant other. They are all just as proud as he is to have this day.

“Y/n, darling!” Y/n’s mother, a senator’s companion, walks over, holding a glass.

“Hello Mother,” Y/n says, her body going tense. Fox raises his thumb just enough to brush against her wrist, and she relaxes. “Is Father around?”

“He’s talking to the new chancellor,” the mother states.

“Still trying to get back on the advisory board?” Y/n asks. Fox knew her father. He was one of the men that would meet with senators about proposals, then bring them before the chancellor, usually off the record. Chancellor Organa has disbanded the group, as he believes senators should go directly to him if they have a suggestion outside the senate meetings.

Personally, Fox doesn’t care for the man. He’d only put up with him because of his daughter. But if it came to it, he’d arrest him, future father-in-law or not.

“And who is your escort?” Mrs. L/n asks.

“Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard,” Y/n states proudly. Fox never felt like that was an accomplishment until he heard her say it.

“Oh,” Mrs. L/n looks at him, “I didn’t know there was a private guard duty tonight.”

Y/n’s smile fades. She clears her throat, “No, Mother…”

“Why isn’t he in his armor?” Mrs. L/n asks.

Y/n grabs Fox’s hand with hers and lifts it up, “He’s not guarding me, Mother. He’s my escort.”

“Your…” Mrs. L/n says slowly, trying to understand.

“And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk to my fiancé,” Y/n says with emphasis, “like he isn’t the sentient being he is, Mother.”

Her mother’s mouth falls open. Fox smiles, finding it his turn to be proud. He kisses Y/n’s cheek, “Shall we go dance?”

“Please,” Y/n says. He pulls her away and they settle into each others arms, dancing to the slow song.

“Thank you.”

Fox chuckles, “Well I couldn’t let you bite her head off.”

“I wouldn’t,” Y/n says.

Fox hums in response.

“She’s just mad I didn’t want to marry a senator, or some big company owner like she planned my whole life.”

“Instead you chose a clone with literally nothing to his name,” Fox teases.

Y/n looks up at him, “I chose the prince of my heart. Nothing else matters.”

“That was way too sappy to come from your mouth,” Fox chuckles.

Y/n shudders, “I know. What was I thinking?”

The slow song ends quickly, another more fast paced song replaces it.

“I taught you this one,” Y/n says, “let’s see how much you remember.”

Fox pulls her closer, his face morphing into a smirk again, “All of it.”


	2. Foxes Wear Orange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2/Prompt 1- high speed chase
> 
> Reader pulls a prank. Fox isn’t amused.

Y/n runs down the hall as fast as she can. When she turns the corner, there are a few armored clones milling about. A few turn to look at her as she sprints past. “Excuse me!” She squeaks, skirting around them and going faster when she’s in the clear.

“Y/N!” A voice yells down the hall.

Y/n only laughs and tries to run harder.

“Why didn’t you di’kute stop her?” He asks the troopers, barreling past them.

“We didn’t…” one trooper tries, but he has to bend over from laughing so hard. The others are similar, unable to help their commander.

Y/n tries to make it confusing where she’s going, but ends up coming face to chest with an angry wet commander in half his blacks.

She looks at the floor, trying to decide if it would be better to be sheepish or innocent.

She perks up and lightly salutes him, “Hiya Commander. What’s the rush?”

It’s difficult for Y/n to keep a straight face, especially with Fox staring at her with a shock of orange on his head. “Y/n…”

Fox has no room on his schedule for games. He’s two more snarky comments away from strangling her.

She taps her finger to her chin, grinning, “I think it suits you. Foxes are orange, aren’t they?”

“Y/n,” Fox says, signaling she better start running towards the med bay if she says one more comment.

“Who said it was me?” Y/n asks, raising her hands. Hands that are currently stained orange from holding the bottle. “…Oops,” she says, backing away slowly.

Fox holds his hand out, “My real shampoo, now.”

Y/n huffs, “I don’t have it on me right now.”

Fox takes her arm in his hand, just enough pressure so she can’t run off again, and starts guiding her down the hall. “Then let’s go get it,” he says between his teeth.

“You love me,” Y/n grins up at him.

Fox sighs, a sound which has been getting longer since meeting Y/n. But, he’s unable to contradict her.


	3. A Pile of Kits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2, Prompt 2- animal transformation
> 
> Fox finds a bunch of foxes in his room.  
> It takes him a couple nips to connect the dots.

Fox has had a long day. He still has an even longer night ahead of him, but first he wants to wash off with a cold shower after standing at attention behind a senator for Force knows how long. He would have assigned it to one of his guardsmen, but they were all apparently busy and not answering coms. Then it’s data pads, forged signatures, and pretty much running the Senate for the Chancellor until he passes out or takes a stim before he gets to actually use the bed in his private room.

The door slides open, revealing said bed in all its comforts. But instead of the deep red duvet, there is a lumpy orange blanket covering. Fox walks over, careful not to get to close lest he indulge in a too long nap. Part of the odd blanket stirs and a head pops up from the middle.

A fox head.

The commander is now on alert, wondering how a fox — scratch that, an entire pack of foxes — managed to get into his room, let alone into the barracks.

The first fox alerts the others of the presence of the commander. They all get up, some staying on the bed, the others hopping down to weave and nip at his heels. One is trying to get his attention with high pitched barks.

Fox groans to himself, then reaches for the com on his wrist to call security. One of the foxes nips at his blacks a little harder. He growls, looking down, “What?” He asks the fox.

The little critter motions its head to the other fox still barking at him. The commander looks up and stares. One of the foxes next to the one barking has some black lines along his face. Come to think of it, it looks a lot like a tattoo one of his guardsmen has.

“Nash?” He asks.

The foxes around him all perk up and yip in glee. He looks around, realizing why he can’t contact any of the guardsmen.

“Okay, everyone line up so I can figure out who is here,” Fox says, rubbing at his temple. The group runs to the empty wall and sits in the spaces they usually stand for drill. There are some empty slots between foxes, where non-present guardsmen stand.

Fox does the count, listing off the names for reference later. Those with markings, or distinct hairstyles are easy to recognize.

“I am going to shower, then I will call someone to call the Jedi,” Fox decides, “you all need to stay here until they sort this out.”

He turns to the refresher and closes the door. He showers quicker than he wished he could, and steps into a fresh pair of blacks. He carries the top half of his armor out with him, formulating what he’s going to say over the com.

The foxes are meandering around his room when the refresher door opens but all eyes hit him when he appears.

“You all stay here,” he orders, walking to the door. The foxes all converge on him, some even climbing up his front. He stumbles at the weight of clone-turned-foxes, and lands on the bed behind him. “No, I’m not—”

They all snuggle up somewhere around or on top of him. Some weave above and below his knees and others curl around his arms. One, whom Fox can only guess is Thire, curls around the crown of his head, his tail brushing at Fox’s nose a couple times before settling on his ear. Everyone else is piled on his chest, trapping him.

“…Fine,” he relents, “One nap, then you’ll all go back to normal.”

The foxes all agree with yips and settle back down again, finally getting their brother to sleep.


	4. The Steamy Bean Tapcaf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3- solitude
> 
> Tini's normal day, ending not so normally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiniriss is one of my OCs.  
> She is bound to show up again.

Tiniriss, nicknamed ‘Tini’ by the clones of the Guard, walks through the halls of the barracks on Coruscant. Her tapcafe is one of the establishments participating in the war effort. She’s paid by the government to house the Steamy Bean Tapcafe on one of the lower floors of the Coruscant Guard Barracks. She’s paid to serve her goodies to those that work there. Mostly clones, and mostly clones in red, but some nat-born officers (as the clones call them) and clones on leave stop in.

The mornings are always the busiest, so she’s up very early and in the cafe when the level is fairly quiet. Mornings make her thankful that she was offered a small room in the barracks itself, along with other staff.

Tini unlocks the front door of the Steamy Bean, and the door slides open for her. She walks through the sparse tables and chairs, turning on lights as she goes. She steps behind the counter and picks up her apron. After pulling her mottled blue and green headtails through the neck, she ties the apron around her waist and begins preparations for the day.

Though many clones come through her door during the morning, she has a number of the orders memorized. Or written on a data pad for her to go through each morning. Some are easier than others. She remakes them ahead of time, putting them on the warming strip of the front counter with their names written on the reusable cups.

By the time she finishes the first round of orders, the door chimes, opening.

Thire and Stone walk in, followed by a few men in identical red armor.

“Morning boys,” the nautolan greets, turning to the caf maker again to start another order.

Thire picks up his order, already waiting on the warming strip. Stone surveys the lists above the counter. He was a special case, since he changes his order slightly every day. Tini likes the challenge.

“What will it be today, Stone?” Tini asks, putting the next order in place of Thire’s.

“Mmmm… can I have a darker chocolate this time?” He asks.

“You got it,” Tini says. She gets working on his. Thire stays and chats. The two step out of the way as more clones grab their drinks, thanking Tini on the way out the door. Some stay and sit at the tables while they finish their drinks. The room buzzes with energy and Tini thrives in it almost as much as she does in water.

She looks up, handing a drink to a clone in green, when she hears the door chime again. She turns around, grabs a large cup, and sets it in the caf maker. When it’s done, she turns around and hands it over, “Here you go, Commander.”

Fox nods absently, takes the hot cup, and turns around. He barely turns his helmet away from his data pad as he walks back to the door, “Thorn, you’re heading Senator Amidala’s detail today. Stone, pick a few men to guard Senator Chuchi, she’s going off world. Jek, there’s a few shinies coming today. They will report to you at 1300.”

“Yes sir,” the clones in question say. Fox is then out the door with his black caf, and Tini returns to the line up of orders.

“Is he always like that?” A clone in blue asks.

Tini nods.

“How do you know what he wants?” Another asks. They came in later, so they didn’t see the long line of pre-made orders.

“He always asks for the same thing, three times a day,” Tini says, handing another order over, “large black caf, still piping hot when he gets it.”

A few clones grumble to themselves how black caf is disgusting. Tini agrees with them, but if that’s what Fox wants, she’s paid to give it to him.

* * *

The afternoon rolls around, and Tini stands up from the table she was at and goes to the counter. The time between the morning rush and lunch is sparse, so she only goes to the counter when someone shows up. But lunch time has a number of clones coming, since she has something the mess hall does not have; sweet treats.

Technically, she is only required to provide caf. But she still orders her usual baked goods, not having the time to make them herself. The clones come by after their meal (or sometimes before) and get a dessert of the day.

Jek walks in with a few shinies at this point and walks them through the menu. Tini glances at their faces as they look in wonder at the options. They then go up to the counter and order for the first time. Tini is patient with them as they ask similar questions to their brothers when she first opened. They move off to enjoy the treats as Commander Fox once again walks in. Tini turns around, makes his caf, and turns back as his hand comes out to accept it.

“Don’t forget drill tomorrow morning,” he tells the shinies. They nod, sitting a little straighter in their chairs as their commander addresses them. He has a few other orders for various members of the guard present, then he leaves again. He never takes his helmet off, and never drinks his caf in the cafe itself. For all Tini knows, he dumps it out once he’s out of distance. She only gets the empty cups from a service droid at the end of the day to clean.

The clones file in and out slowly, and when it reaches afternoon, Tini is once again left alone for the most part. A few officers come in for a break, and a group of clones in purple burst in, amazed at seeing the cafe for the first time. Tini indulges them, answering more of the same questions. Then it’s quiet until close up, so she sits with her data pad and uses the time up as relaxing.

She looks up, expecting the door to chime, but it doesn’t. She looks at the chrono, which says it is half past nine in the evening. She sighs, then stands up. Fox usually arrives by then for his third cup of the day. Some days he doesn’t come, which she hopes is because he’s actually getting sleep.

She starts going through her routine of clean up, wiping down tables and putting chairs up on the tables. She puts all the remaining dirty cups in the washer and starts it. As she sorts out the syrups and beans for the next days morning docket, the door chimes.

Fox is standing there. Tini takes a clean cup and fills it with the black caf. She turns around and he’s waiting in the quiet, his hand outstretched. “Here you go, Commander,” Tini says with a smile. Fox nods absently.

Tini goes back to finishing her clean up, packing her bag with her tips from the officers (and even some clones believe it or not) and starting to go through the room, turning the lights off.

Then she realizes that Commander Fox is still there. He walked over and sat at one of the tables near the wall. Tini slowly turns the lights off on the other side of the room, watching him carefully.

He sets his cup down and reaches for his neck. She hears a small hiss of air, and the helmet is set on the table.

She knew he probably wasn’t getting much sleep, as he is the person out of all her customers that gets the most caf each day. But even in the half-darkness, she can see the dark spots under his eyes. He stares out the window, slowly sipping his caf.

Tini doesn’t know if she should tell him she’s closing up, as this is the first time he’s ever stopped and sat in her tap cafe. She continues turning off lights, hoping he’ll get the hint on his own. By the time she’s right by his table, turning off the small light on the table adjacent, he speaks up.

“Thank you,” he says.

She turns to look at him. He isn’t facing her, instead looking straight ahead. There’s a red tattoo right above his right eye, but it’s in a language that Tini doesn’t understand.

“Thank you for the kindness you show my brothers,” he states. He takes a sip of his caf again, then stands up.

“You can stay a little longer if you want,” Tini says suddenly. He turns to look at her. “I still have to take the cups out of the washer,” she explains.

He nods, sitting back down. She walks into the back, waiting for the machine to ding. Usually, she’ll take cups directly from the washer in the morning, as they dry overnight. But she wants to give him more time. He seems to need it.

She slowly unloads the cups onto the shelves, then walks back out. The cup is sitting at the table, and the commander walks past the window with his helmet on.


	5. When a Medic Outranks a Commander

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4- scars
> 
> A medic in the Coruscant Guard goes to Fox’s office when he doesn’t show up for a post mission examination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After reading this again, I realize this is similar to Teagan from RAA.

Commander Fox is scrolling through a data pad at his desk when his door signals that someone is waiting on the other side. “Enter,” he says, swiping to the next item on the data pad.

One of the resident medics, Y/n, steps into the room.

“What is it?” Fox asks.

“You didn’t show up for post assignment check up,” Y/n states, “so I had to go look for you.”

“I don’t need the check up,” Fox says. True, the peaceful-protest-gone-violent-riot did a number on him, but he had more work to do.

“Take off your helmet, commander,” Y/n says, walking over.

“No,” Fox says, “you’re dismissed.”

Y/n stops at the side of his desk, “Your brothers say you took more hits than they did.”

Fox swipes to a new document.

“They have bruises, Fox.”

Fox’s hand slips a moment, but continues. He hates hearing how his brothers were hurt. If he did his job better, then they wouldn’t be.

“They also said you were one of the only ones to end up on the ground,” the medic continues.

“Noted. You are _dismissed_ , Y/n,” Fox says.

Y/n grabs the arm of his chair and spins him to face her. She stares straight into the visor of his helmet, “Until I am sure that you are not in need of medical attention, I outrank you, sir,” she says.

“I do not need medical attention,” the commander states evenly around the pressure in his chest.

“Really?”

“Yes.” His mouth smarts at the word, as it has for the last hour.

“Then prove it, take off your helmet.”

Fox is backed into a corner and knows that if he doesn’t listen to the order, she will take it off herself. He reaches up, unlocking the helmet, and sets it on his desk.

Y/n sets her med kit on the desk next to it and steps between his legs to get a better look. His face is covered in bruises and his mouth is bleeding. Y/n scoffs at the dismissal of his injuries, taking out a bacta wipe to start cleaning up the mess.

“What happened? Did your helmet fall off?”

Fox flinches at the cool substance, “More like a foot bashed it into my face.”

“Several times?” Y/n asks.

Fox sighs, “Yes, several times.”

Y/n sets the wipe down and picks up another. “Any other injuries I should know about?”

“My ribs hurt, and my leg is sore,” Fox says.

“We’ll have to go to the med bay for those. Think you can stand, or should I get a—”

“I walked here, didn’t I?” Fox asks.

Y/n hums. She wipes at part of his forehead, then frowns. She places her thumb along a line that stayed put during the clean up.

“That’s a scar,” Fox explains, “another mission gone wrong.”

Y/n sighs, “It looks like it could have been avoided.”

“What?” Fox asks.

“The scar,” Y/n taps his forehead, “if you came to medical, you wouldn’t have it.”

“It’s not important,” Fox says. Y/n sets the wipe down and crosses her arms.

“If you cared more about yourself, then you’d see that that mindset is dangerously close to suicidal, Commander. You matter. You matter to your men, and you matter…”

Fox looks up at her.

Y/n sighs, “You matter to those you save every day. Is it too much to ask that you just go to the med bay when you are hurt?”

Fox is silent as she steps back to finish checking his face and neck. She then prompts him to stand up so she can check his ribs. It’s difficult with the armor, but she determines at least two are broken and one might be bruised. He takes a step forward and limps, favoring his left foot.

Y/n slides an arm under his shoulder and around his back, “Let’s get you to medical, Commander.”

Fox sighs, but lets her guide him down the hall.

“And next time,” Y/n states, “Don’t skip the post assignment check up. They are put in place for a reason. Am I understood, Fox?”

“Yes sir,” Fox draws out, earning a smile from the medic.


	6. Free Time Adjacent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5- hobbies
> 
> Fox doesn’t have free time, but his brothers do.

Clones were literally bred to serve the Republic. They do not have anything other than the Republic. At least, that was what was intended. But what civilians do not know, is that beyond the helmets and the blasters, there are sentients, who do, in fact have hobbies.

They find ways to get the materials for said hobbies. Paint is easy enough, yarn is more difficult. Some hobbies bounce off each other, and those clones work together to finish something. The rooms meant for downtime (however few there are) have their craft items inside, hanging on the walls or waiting on tables. The barracks bunks also are full of their hobbies.

Each clone has something that they do to wind down, relax, or just… feel normal.

Except Fox.

Commander Fox does not have time for a hobby. Everyone knew that. He was always busy. Some wonder if he even knows which one he would pick. His brothers then collectively decide that if they show him what they do, maybe he’ll pick one and finally find time to actually sit with them for something that isn’t work related.

So a group of clones present him with a blanket they made together, some parts knit, others braided, all surrounded by a border a brother dyed himself. By the standards they see in shops, it’s ugly. But they made it, and it shows their teamwork.

Fox has it spread out on his bed.

Another group of brothers put together a collection of portraits of their squads, either in armor sans helmet, or in their blacks, or wearing some weird civilian clothes from the lost in found. The pictures are a bit sloppy, but they can tell who is who.

Fox has them hung up on one of the walls in his private room.

Two of the clones were given access to the kitchen, and they taught themselves new dishes to try. It was only in small amounts, but they made sure Fox was one of the first to taste test.

He gives his honest opinion that each dish is better than the ration bars they are given.

Others have written their missions down in journals of flimsi, or detailing normal ‘natural born’ things clones have done, as well as things they realize only clones do. They ask Fox to review them.

It’s the best thing he’s had to read in his whole career of reading and reviewing things, despite some of the sad stories that come about it. He also laughs at the funny shenanigans he didn’t get to experience himself.

What they don’t realize is that he has a hobby. Fox’s ‘hobby’ is watching his brothers happy with their hobbies, and encouraging them in those pursuits. There’s nothing he’s found yet that is greater.


	7. The Smallest Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 6- magic
> 
> What if Fox was force sensitive?

Fox learned to ignore it. It felt too much like a headache. Only, it was in the back of his mind, not the pulse at his forehead whenever the Chancellor would talk to him when he was sleep deprived. Which, honestly, was a constant. The smaller headache was like a pinprick just poking at his senses. He ignored it, as he could never focus on it long enough to understand why it was there.

True, he had instincts. Despite the fact that he was the busiest and most stressed clone in the GAR, he didn’t die on missions because of it. He’d dodge blaster fire on time, he’d aim properly. Everyone thought he was the pinacle of clone potential. He knows he’s just really tired and can’t always see properly out of his helmet. But he’s too thankful to be alive after a mission to dwell on the how and why’s.

Maybe the little pin in the back of his mind helped, but he doesn’t know. Adrenaline and stress push it back that it isn’t felt in highly tense situations.

But then he’s talking to the Chancellor about the rogue clone. The headache is back as the Chancellor talks about how this clone threatened his life and must be brought to justice. It is Fox’s duty to stop him before he tried again. Fox nods through the pain and leaves. Something feels wrong. The pin prick grows bigger, pushing at the raging storm in his head. He leans against the wall, trying to get a grip without falling over.

It isn’t much, just a little. There’s a suggestion, an urgent need to go over his equipment, even if he already checked his blaster and belt every morning, even while he waited to speak with the Chancellor.

But the thought is so much more prevalent than any other time, he complies. He goes through his belt, finding nothing out of the ordinary. He then checks his blaster.

It’s set to lethal. The Chancellor had said to bring the rogue clone in, so he changes it to stun and continues on his way. It is only after Fives is properly detained that he wonders why his gun was on lethal in the first place, when ten minutes before meeting with the Chancellor it was on stun.

When Fives wakes up, he’s in a non-disclosed location and Fox is willing to hear him out. Not because he thinks he’s right. It’s because that pinprick is even louder now, and his headache is clearing. If anything, this is so much more important.


	8. Not the Reason You'd Think

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 7- tattoos
> 
> Tini is invited to join the group to 79s one night.

The boys in red pestered Tini almost every day to go with them to 79s. She politely declined, as she said that she needed that time to sleep so she’d be able to make their caf in the morning. Thorn knew how to get her to say yes, though.

And that’s how Fox found out about their attempts. Thorn had first convinced _him_ to go to 79s for one night. Word got to Tini, and next thing you know, she’s saying yes. If Commander Fox is taking some time to relax with the guys, then perhaps she can too.

So the group arrives at the clone bar and gets a group of seats. Tini had to close up, but promised she would be there. Fox nurses a drink someone put in front of him while his brothers jest among themselves and flirt with waitresses that pass their table. Other clones with more beat up armor eye their booth, but Fox doesn’t give them a glance. He knows the Guard are the most disliked group among his brothers, but they are only doing their jobs.

Tini shows up among the crowded bar and Thire moves over so she can sit down next to him. She’s out of her usual attire, and in something more loose and comfortable, while most of them are in their armor. Fox took the liberty of changing into his fatigues.

She joins in on the conversation, declining the offer of a drink, but offers in return to refill theirs at the bar. A few glasses a pushed in her direction, and she stands up and walks off. Her tank top swishes along her side, but hikes up as she lifts her arms to carry the glasses.

And Fox sees it.

A small black tattoo outline on her upper hip.

He stares after her, hoping the guys didn’t see it. He really doesn’t want them to see it.

“So she’s got a fox tattoo…” Jek says.

Fox closes his eyes and groans inwardly.

“Think she’s got an eye on you Commander?” Stone adds, nudging Fox with his elbow.

“Doesn’t look fresh enough,” the marshal commander comments.

“I couldn’t tell,” Stone says, hinting that Fox would have had to really be looking to make the distinction.

Tini comes back, passing out the drinks.

“So, Tini,“ Thire says as he drapes an arm around her shoulders, “When’d you get your tattoo?”

Tini starts to ask what tattoo, but then stops. Her eyes betray that her brain is trying to think of what it was, then she locks eyes with Fox.

She then begins laughing stitches into her side. “It’s not for the reason you think,” she assures Fox through her laughter. She clears her throat and pushes a few head tendrils back, “It was this… I don’t know, this thing my friends and I did. We all wanted tattoos, but we wanted them to mean something. So someone found this ‘official’ spirit animal quiz, or whatever. I think it has something to do with our personalities, or soulmates or something…”

She rattles off the ramble of an explanation so casually, Fox almost misses it.

“And we decided whatever we got, we’d get a tattoo of it,” Tini answers.

“And yours is a… fox,” Jek fills in.

“You got it,” Tini says, “That was… oh, I don’t know… five years ago? Six?” She shakes her head, “definitely before the war, in case you were still wondering.”

Stone leans over the table, “Don’t you think it’s a strange coincidence that your tattoo for your soulmate—”

‘So he noticed too,’ Fox muses inwardly.

“—matches our dear Commander’s chosen name?”

Tini looks at Fox, who is trying not to betray any emotions he might have to the possibility to soulmates existing. Let alone he himself having one.

“No…” Tini says. She laughs, looking at Stone, “That never crossed my mind. I almost forgot I had it before today.”

The conversation dissolves into something else, but Fox catches himself checking again if it’s really there when she agrees to dance with a couple of his brothers.

It’s there, but not for the reason he thinks.

Maybe.


End file.
